The Fox and the Hare
by Taragaryen
Summary: It's Mitchell's primitive bachelor years, and Annie has disturbed them by moving in one of her troubled best friends to disrupt their trio. She and Mitchell hate each others' guts. But does it have to be that way?
1. Four's A Company

Four's A Company

"But why does she have to stay with us? We're perfectly comfortable with just the three of us." Mitchell was throwing a tantrum at the idea of a stranger intruding on their bubble.

"Because she's my best friend and I will not have her living on the streets, when we're fully capable of giving her a roof over her head!" Annie explained for the hundredth time that morning. A groan erupted from Mitchell's chest as he strangled a pillow in the grip of his arms.

"I thought we were your best friends?" George quipped lazily, having only heard bits and pieces of the conversation while his attention was on the television in front of him.

Annie sighed, aggravated, and pointed at George sternly. "Don't you start now, George. I've gotten more than an earful from Mitchell already in the last week."

Glaring, Mitchell continued to pout, and George did as he was told and kept quiet.

"And besides…," she continued, picking at her nails, "her boyfriend is being less than accommodating and won't offer her his place, so…"

Mitchell's arms flew into the air. "So there _is_ another option."

"What kind of boyfriend lets their girlfriend be homeless?" George blinked and adjusted his glasses, now looking at Annie.

Her hand jabbed the air in his direction, her eyes hard on Mitchell. " _Thank_ you, George. At least you are _trying_ to understand the predicament I'm in."

Rubbing his hands over his face, Mitchell looked at her through his fingers. "I just think it's a terrible idea, not to mention inconvenient. And unsafe. Does she even kn- "

"Yes, she knows," Annie interrupted and paused. "As it happens, she is not so different from you, Mitchell. So, perhaps knowing that, you will be a little kinder toward her! Take her under your wing, as it were." Her voice was a little bit more bubbly, but Mitchell's reaction instantly crushed it. He was not convinced.

Rather, his mouth hung partially open in disbelief. "That still doesn't make it better. I hope you didn't tell her I'm here to be some sort of…counselor, or something, because I'm not." With that, he got to his feet and he threw the pillow into his seat, heading upstairs. "We were perfectly fine before this happened, Annie."

George and Annie sat there silent, waiting for the anticipated door slam. Once it happened, Annie plopped beside George and buried her face in her hands.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" Annie's muffled voice peeped from behind her hands.

"U-Uh…" George stuttered, a sly smile on his face. "Do you mean in general, or…?" Suddenly, he howled into the air as Annie's fist made sharp contact with his arm. "How do you expect my sympathy when you abuse me?"

There was no response. George heaved a sigh and threw himself back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Listen…while I'm sure all, or most, of us would rather have it be just us here forever…we can't turn one of our own away out of principle. We'll just have to get used to it."

Annie's head turned sideways so she could see him. This time, her voice was much softer. "Thank you, George. It's not going to be forever. Just until she can get on her feet. We'd done it before, so I don't understand what's so different this time. Plus, I think you'll really like her," she smiled cheerily, sitting up proper. "Mitchell on the other hand…" She made a face.

"What? Why are you making that face? …Annie?" George pushed, his eyes more rigid now.

"She can be a little bit feisty. For Mitchell, anyway…I'm not so sure their personalities will exactly…click…" Reluctantly, she looked to George in hopes that his expression would give some sign of support, but she received none of that. It was all steely.

Grabbing a pillow, he stuffed it over his face and groaned.

"Happy new roomie day!" Annie exclaimed at the base of the stairs as Mitchell and George descended that morning. The only greeting she received in return was a grunt by George, and both of them passing by for the kitchen. Her face fell with further irritation. She had been up all night making preparations, and also trying to think of ways which could bond them together as a foursome.

None of which successfully included Mitchell.

Trailing the boys into the kitchen with an extra skip in her step, Annie slapped her hands on the counter which made both of them jump.

"Jesus, Annie, can we not have five seconds for tea?" George begged, his eyes still half asleep. Mitchell was pouring cereal into a bowl.

"I've already gotten that ready for you!" Her hands stretched outward, gesturing at the three mugs steaming on the kitchen table. A lazy grin formed on George's face as he sat heavily, gulping the liquid despite its hotness.

Annie turned to Mitchell, hands on her hips. "When you've woken up, I'd really appreciate everyone tidying up a bit. I spent most of the night doing as much as I can, but it wouldn't hurt to maybe find clothes that _don't_ include undershirts or boxers."

"Don't worry, I don't plan to be here when she gets here anyway," Mitchell said in-between chews. George's head shot up to look at him, and Annie was slowly cocking her head, her eyebrows nearly becoming one line.

"Excuse me?" She questioned, leaning against the counter behind her.

"You can't leave me, Mitchell…" George pleaded, finishing his drink.

Shrugging, Mitchell finished swallowing. "Then come with. I'd nearly forgotten that I have some prior engagement later."

Annie rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious? You've known about this all week! It would mean a lot to me to at least put forth some effort. It reflects badly on me too, you know. Not that you seem to care."

Walking to the sink, Mitchell began cleaning out his dish before turning to Annie. "And you've known all week how I feel about intruders, but you don't seem to care." That said, he stormed past her to go change his clothes upstairs.

George sat as still as a stone in his seat, afraid of the consequence of Annie being told off. He could nearly hear her blood pressure rising. Panicking, he folded his hands onto the table. "Annie…if it would help make you feel better, I will stay."

In that moment, he was her savior. She jumped into the air and lunged toward him – which made him cringe, as he had expected more bruising – but she merely wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squealed with delight.

"It would mean the world, George. I just need to show her that this can be a home for her. I understand it's not ideal, and of course I'm happy with it being just the trio, but…I can't say no to her." Annie's face transitioned from anger to concern.

Standing to his feet, George grabbed a banana off the counter. "Well, let's get ready then, shall we?"

It was late afternoon before Annie and George had done the finishing touches in making their flat look as immaculate as it had since they had moved to Bristol. They rearranged furniture to make it more four-people-friendly, dusted the layers of cobwebs from the corners, and tossed all the expired food they had left in their refrigerator. George changed into a solid gray button-down and trousers, while Annie rearranged her usual grey garb to suit her bubbly mood. Lastly, they transitioned the room beside Mitchell's into a functional bedroom, much to Mitchell's digression. Luckily, they had an extra mattress in their attic that they tried their best to hose down on the patio. George was highly concerned that there were probably bed bugs hiding in the fibers.

In the mix of all the hustle and bustle, Mitchell had snuck out of the house. As George was fixing a light lunch for them, there was a knock on the door which caused the spatula in his hand to go airborne.

"Annie!" He cried, frantically trying to decide whether to clean his mess, or answer the door. " _Annie!_ "

"I'm coming!" There was the sound of thuds coming down the wooden stairs. Annie adjusted her posture and tried to compose herself before the door. Quickly, George wiped up the pasta sauce that had been flicked across the kitchen wall and gave Annie a thumbs up through the wall cut-out. A bright smile crossed her face as she opened the door.

All Annie could see was a pair of legs, holding luggage three times her size.

"Oh!" Annie stepped past the threshold and grabbed what she could manage.

George continued to stir ferociously in the boiling pot before him, continuously looking through the window in the wall.

Finally, a small-framed girl came into sight, dragging in another backpack. George made some quick observations: black hair, curious eyes, a noticeable scar just below her right eye, leather jacket, relatively attractive by his judgement. What, perhaps, freaked him out the most was that she, oddly and visually, reminded him of a more feminine Mitchell just then. He quickly averted his eyes to concentrate on his food project which was on the brink of burning.

"Welcome home!" Annie squeaked, pulling the girl into a tight squeeze.

"Wow, it's much more beautiful than you'd described, Annie." The girl pulled away from Annie, observing the structure before her. George's eyes darted to Annie, wondering what exactly she had told the girl. Annie shrugged innocently.

"Come meet George and then I'll give you the grand tour." The girl followed Annie into the kitchen, and George tried to collect himself. "Well, George, meet our new roomie, Maeve."

George took a step forward and gently took Maeve's hand, lifting it to give it a light kiss. "Welcome, m'lady, to the residence now known as two vampires and a ghost…and a werewolf…"

Maeve's eyes widened, and Annie's lips curled in awe of his sudden, rash personality change. "Code red, George. Code red."

Frozen, George dropped her hand and sat up. "My name is George and it's nice to finally meet you, Maeve," his voice returned to normal as he shook Maeve's hand instead.

A nervous laugh escaped Maeve's mouth as she returned his hand shake. "It's very nice to meet you, m'lord," she playfully bowed.

George's face slowly turned to that of pleasant surprise as he looked to Annie, his mouth wide open in a large smile. "I like her," he nodded with approval, flinging a hand towel around his neck.

Annie exhaled a breath she had been holding since George's frightening introduction, and grabbed Maeve by the elbow to lead her back out. "I have no explanation for that. Let me show you the rest of the house!"

Once Maeve was a little more accustomed to where everything could be found in the house, she and Annie made their way back to the kitchen at George's request.

"Lunch is served," he announced, with an exaggerated swoop of his arms. There was enough pasta to feed a family of ten, but he found it impossible to measure noodles properly. Occasionally, he would make a dish for Annie, if only to make her feel included even though she couldn't eat it.

As they gathered with their plates, they took their seats at the table.

"George…" Annie began, her voice low.

"Yes, Annie?" He replied as he folded a napkin at the collar of his shirt.

"You realize that you made the messiest dish you could've thought of? You know they say not to do that on a first date, or rather a first…introduction, I suppose," Annie observed, resting her cheek against her folded hands.

"It's my specialty," he defended, his voice squeaking. "And besides, if Maeve is going to live with us, she'll just have to get used to messes." Annie winced.

Twirling her fork in the noodles, Maeve looked between them. "Messes are my specialty. I'm not worried…it doesn't have to look like the Taj Mahal."

George's fork dropped onto his place with a clink, and all attention fell on him. He looked at Maeve. "Can I just marry you right now? I mean really, what could Mitchell possible ha- "

Annie's hand flew over his mouth and she laughed nervously when Maeve's eyebrow lifted. "Don't listen to him, he likes to exaggerate sometimes, isn't that right, George?" She asked through gritted teeth, to which George nibbled at Annie's fingers to make her let go.

"Is Mitchell the other guy that's not here?" Maeve inquired, chewing her food.

Annie anxiously played with the hem of her sleeves, trying to put on an optimistic face. "That would be him."

"And, I suppose that's the very guy you mentioned might be a little wary about a stranger being in the house?" Maeve subconsciously played with her food, watching Annie.

Sighing a deep sigh, Annie nodded reluctantly. "Same one. I think he'll come around, it'll just…take some time."

Maeve nodded and there was a small shrug. "Can't blame him, really. I think I would feel the same way. I am sort of impeding on your territory," she muttered.

"Oh, no…no," George interjected, shaking his head as he brought the empty dishes to the sink. "Mitchell is a one-of-a-kind…creature…of this world. And I have a hard time explaining his quirks to people, but…once you get to know him, I'm sure everything will be just peachy."

Staring down at the wooden grain in the table, Maeve thought for a moment. "It seems like you're trying to convince yourselves more than me."

Annie shot a worried look toward George, suddenly wondering if this was a good idea at all. George came back to them.

"I have an idea. Let's get you unpacked and we'll put on a movie – your choice – and eat really bad food," he pitched, and received bright smiled from both women. He gave them each a thumbs up as they headed upstairs to assist with the unpacking. If Annie could kiss him a thousand times without it being weird, she would have just then.

George helped move in the heavier furniture, which they were grateful that they had kept some of what the previous owner had left behind before they had moved in years ago. Annie assisted with arranging Maeve's clothes into her smaller-sized wardrobe, and Maeve set up the rest. By the time they finished, it was already dark outside, and George decided they should order in pizza so that they'd have time for a movie.

As they grouped in the family room, Annie passed out teacups and tip-toed her way around the room so as to not cross in front of the television. Plates and cups full, they made themselves comfortable on the couch and tuned into the movie. George was delighted that it was a comedy, which he felt was a happy medium as opposed to a 'chick flick'. Annie had a permanent grin on her face, but was also feeling increasingly anxious at the eventual arrival of Mitchell.

And as if her nightmare had been answered, there was the muffled laughter of not one, but two voices on the other side of the front door. There were keys fumbling at the lock. George and Annie looked at each other with alarmed expressions, and Maeve casually eyeballed them, trying to figure out what was bothering them.

Just as she went to ask, the door burst open and smacked the posterior wall in the meantime. Stumbling in was an intoxicated Mitchell who was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, and following him was a tall, lean woman whose hair was frizzy from whatever activities they had been participating in before. Three sets of eyes staring in his direction made him snap out of his absent-mindedness, as Mitchell turned to look at his friends and the stranger in his home. He had a loose grip on the hand of the woman he was with, who nervously was pulling some of her long hair out of her mouth.

Annie's face turned to stone, George's to dread, and Maeve's to both shock and slight disgust. Her eyes locked with Mitchell's, and she hadn't noticed how long he had been staring but it felt like forever. He scowled at her, and she watched as his other hand found the rump of the other woman as he ushered her to go upstairs. He stood there a bit longer, and then followed her.

There was a collective exhale amongst the three of them in the family room, Annie rubbing her forehead and George arching his head back.

"So…" Maeve broke the silence, tapping the mug in her hand. "That's the other guy?"

They finished the movie, but not without distraction. Every once in a while, there would be an odd thud or shriek somewhere above them, and Annie tried her best to convince Maeve that this wasn't a typical night in the house. Eventually, she gave up, and instead decided to sit and brood on the couch instead. George was slumped against the arm of the couch, fighting to keep his eyes open, only to be woken by the noises above him.

As soon as the movie ended, Annie slid off the couch. "I'm going to go have a chat with Mitchell. This can't go on all night, especially with her here," she stated with authority and marched her way up the stairs.

George curled up on the couch and stretched his legs out as Maeve stood. "Just to warn you," George began, his voice a bit slurring from grogginess, "that probably _will_ go on all night if Annie can't help it."

Maeve stared at him briefly as his eyes shut, and she crossed her arms loosely, looking up toward the ceiling. At first it started as what seemed like a normal discussion, and then the yelling match began. The door slammed. Just as she was about to go upstairs, Annie was retreating down.

"There's no use quarreling with a drunk person," Annie sighed angrily, then looked at Maeve apologetically. "I'm really sorry, dear…this is a horrible first impression. You must think we're all nuts!"

Maeve couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "No, Annie, you guys are great. We'll figure it out. I'll figure it out. If I can't sleep, then…well, I'll just have to do something about it."

Laughing nervously, Annie nodded in approval. "Right. Well, I suppose it is getting late, isn't it? Probably better for George to sleep down here tonight. Good night." Maeve followed Annie up the stairs, then parted in the other direction to gather her toiletries. The noise from Mitchell's room halted briefly, likely due to Maeve's footsteps creaking on the old oak floor, and once everything was collected she locked herself in the bathroom and soaked herself in a hot shower.

Upon returning to her room, she gently closed the door behind her and climbed into bed. The soft, blue glow of the outside world seeped onto her bed through the window. As she was beginning to fade into a dreamless sleep, she heard a loud pound against the wall near her bed. She jumped, sitting up onto her elbow and staying as quiet as she could, listened for more noises. It took a few seconds, but then she heard a woman's voice moan. Her mouth fell agape and she placed a hand over it, instantly burying herself under her blanket and folding her pillow around her head so that both of her ears were blocked.

This seemed to work for a while, but then there was a constant, repetitive knocking at the same wall some two hours later, just after she had fallen into a coma-like sleep. She sat up quickly, head rushing from the move, and slapped her hand against the wall in response. The noise stopped. She gave it some time, then slowly laid back down.

For the second time that night, her sleep was disrupted by obnoxious laughter next door in the same room. Groaning, she wondered how in the world Annie was resisting the urge to knock their door down. Giving herself an idea, she swung her legs over her bed and cracked open her door, taking her pillow with her. She silently cursed all the squeaks and squeals the old home carried. Silence. She parted the door open just enough that she could fit herself through it. After a minute, the noises started up again, this time unrelenting.

Taking a few steps, she lightly knocked on the door, though loud enough to override the noises coming from inside. She wanted to vomit at some of them. They paused briefly and started up again as if nobody was standing at the door. She knocked again, harder this time, but now there was no break. Hand on the doorknob, she turned and shoved the door open, staring angrily at the two entangled bodies slightly illuminated by the moonlight in the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mitchell's gasping voice came from the bed. He struggled to sit up, grabbing a blanket to cover himself as the woman didn't even make a move to do the same.

"Do you have any respect for the people you live with? I tried asking politely if you could please keep it down, but evidently that's impossible," she shot back at him, this time the jetlag doing the talking.

Even from here she could see the deep shadows cast under his brow, and he probably wished nothing but death upon her.

"Excuse me? You've barely lived here for twelve hours, and you're going to tell me what to do in _my_ house?" Now Mitchell was sitting, blanket wrapped around his waist.

Standing her ground, Maeve folded her arms, pillow still in hand. "Here, let's start on better terms: Mitchell, my name is Maeve, it's nice to meet you finally, even though you clearly have some vendetta against me. Now I'd like to please ask for a little bit of silence so that I can get a decent night's sleep. I don't _care_ what you do, I'm only asking for you to do it less offensively," she proposed, but Mitchell's expression didn't falter. Now he was on his feet walking toward her.

He towered above her, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. It made her nostrils burn. "Get. Out. Now," he demanded, one hand on the door. For a second longer, Maeve only stood, and as she was turning to go back to her room, she turned back around and began to whack Mitchell with the pillow. He stumbled backwards as he raised his hands defensively, the woman on his bed was reacting as if it were a knife in her hand and she was committing murder. Though, at this point of exhaustion, she was quite prepared to do whatever it was to get some shuteye.

"Stop! Damn it, stop! I swear to God, if I get my hands on you- "Mitchell yelled, too inebriated to properly defend himself.

"You'll do what? Kick me to the curb? I'm sure that would fly well with Annie!" A few more swipes of the pillow, and Maeve gave him mercy. Trying to catch her breath, Mitchell finally looked back at her with utter contempt on his face. Maeve turned back around and stepped back into her room, shutting the door behind her and flopping into her bed.

On the other side of the room, there was some rustling and just as Maeve was getting ready to yell at him through the wall, she heard his door open and a pair of heels followed as the sound of them disappeared down the stairs. A second person's feet shuffled in the hallway, then the front door was being closed and locked up. Finally, Mitchell's door slammed closed.

Finally, Maeve shut her eyes, wondering if she had made the right choice.


	2. Beneath It All

Beneath It All

A sharp knock at the door stirred Maeve from her deep slumber. Her body jumped and her eyes flew open, sensitive still to the sunlight blaring directly into her face. Groaning, she put up her hand to block the light from her face. The knock came again.

"Yes?" She called, her voice cracking from lack of use.

The door cracked open and Annie stepped in. Cocking her head up, she saw that Annie had a tray in her hands with a couple of dishes, and piled on was several pieces of toast, bacon, and eggs. An uncertain smile tugged at Annie's mouth, and Maeve whimpered.

"I thought I would try and cheer you up after yesterday…or, I guess more like suck up," Annie added, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to spill the little glasses of orange juice.

Propping herself up, Maeve combed her hand with her fingers. "Oh, you didn't have to do that, Annie. None of it was your fault."

Annie shrugged, a bit of the tension in her stomach relaxing. "I feel like I'm responsible by association. I mean, I knew that Mitchell was upset with the idea of a fourth flat mate, but I didn't think it would be _this_ bad. I'm actually rather disappointed that he isn't showing any sign of making an effort." As she spoke, she set the tray between them.

"While I'm not thrilled with the awkwardness it's undoubtedly going to bring…I can deal with it until he comes around. If he comes around. I really don't want to make anybody uncomfortable in their own house." Grabbing a piece of bacon, she broke it in half and began to nibble at it.

Annie laid back onto her back and rubbed her eyes. "But we've done this before, and usually he'll whine about it for a little while and then act as if it had never happened. I think he's partially threatened by you being a vampire when he's been so used to being the only one. We had a strange, kind of almost bad experience once before with a boy who we temporarily took in. It didn't last, thank God, but still…"

"What I want to know is how you slept last night?" Maeve inquired, eyebrow perking.

Annie gave her a confused look.

"Oh, come on," Maeve contested, straightening her back. "You can't tell me you didn't hear anything?"

"Honest! …Though I will admit, as I'm a veteran of these sort of situations with Mitchell, I may have slept with ear plugs in…and several layers of blankets over my head." Annie gritted her teeth and offered an apologetic look.

"Annie!" Maeve gasped, gently flicking her on the arm. "Knight in shining armor next door was practically gyrating his hooker girlfriend through my wall." Annie was instantly brought to a stomach-cramping laughter, gasping for breath. "To the point where I had to intervene!"

"What?!" Annie choked, her eyes wide as she tried containing herself. Her eyes were wet.

Maeve giggled uncontrollably for a second, rocking forward where she sat and tried not to lose her food in the midst of it. "Yes, I was not only sleep-deprived, but severely jet-lagged, and I couldn't take it anymore. I may or may not have assaulted him with my pillow."

Again, Annie was rolling onto her side, breathless and smacking Maeve on the leg. "I…don't believe you! Is th-that why he's still sleeping?"

"Either that, or quietly plotting five different ways to kill me," Maeve grumbled, finishing her plate.

"Oh, oh wow…oh-ho. You are a brave soul to pull that one off. How did he handle it?" Repositioning herself, Annie folded her legs beneath her.

"I'm not exactly sure…I heard the woman leave soon after, and that was it before I passed out," she explained and ran her hand through her morning bed hair.

"I'm sure he's not too thrilled, but honestly, it would be nice to have a break from it. Poor George has nearly made the couch his permanent bedroom, although I don't see how it's any quieter down there," Annie said thoughtfully and scratched her head.

"I'm sure he'll let his feelings be known soon enough." Maeve helped Annie with the dishes, and they made their way downstairs. George was sitting in the kitchen, eyes scanning the local newspaper for something to trigger his interest.

"What's on the agenda today?" He asked without lifting his eyes.

"I'm so glad you asked, George," Annie blurted, her voice crescendoing as it did when she was on the brink of sharing a good idea that had. "I thought it might be fun to go to this new pub that just opened a few blocks away. I heard that their fish and chips are to die for."

They all glanced at once another as if waiting for someone to volunteer. "I think that sounds great," Maeve spoke up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes still.

"Fine with me," George agreed and folded the newspaper. Just as they were beginning to discuss the rest of the day's plans, they stopped as the sound of pair of feet came marching down the stairs. In walked Mitchell, who looked like he had just been hit by a bus. Pieces of hair were sticking out every which direction, and he found it difficult to open his eyes beyond a squint. Everybody stared, but he went straight to the sink for water. Maeve moved out of his way without a peep.

"Long night, eh?" George broke the silence, and it nearly made Mitchell jump. His head was pounding as it someone were hammering six ice picks into his head. He did not reply. George made a face toward the girls.

"Longer for some of us," Maeve mumbled, to which Mitchell set down his glass of water harder than necessary and froze. Everyone's eyes were set on the back of his head, but he wasn't speaking.

"Oh-kaaay…well, I think that would be my cue to go…well, I need…I just need to remove myself from this very awkward situation." George made one fluid movement and slid his way out of the kitchen.

"Mitchell, we're going to that new pub for dinner tonight if you wanted to join us," Annie offered, trying to keep her voice light in an attempt to ease the tension.

When he spoke, his voice was an octave lower as if he were sick. "No, I think I might throw up at even the sight of food."

"My God, you have a hangover! It's been ages since you last had one of those," Annie enthused, and Mitchell squeezed the bridge of his nose with his gloved hands.

"You know they say a greasy burger is one of the best hangover cures. We could always go to the pub earlier." Maeve spoke with a hint of uncertainty in her voice, unsure of the response she might get.

As expected, it wasn't pleasant. Mitchell only looked at her out of his peripheral vision. "I don't need your advice. I'm going back to bed." And as he downed the rest of his drink, he stormed off upstairs again.

Annie met Evelyn's stare and could only shake her head. "I'm sorry, maybe he's just having an off couple of days."

Crossing her arms, Maeve gazed at the pattern of the kitchen floor. "I kind of feel like he wouldn't be dragging the both of you down if that were the case, Annie."

"Honestly? If anything, he's most upset with me. But no matter, I don't want that to spoil your time here. He just needs to adjust and things will get better," Annie said with a slightly forced smile. "I think we owe it to ourselves to do a little girls' shopping, don't you think?"

With a smile, Maeve agreed to the plan and made her way upstairs to get ready for the day.

Once the evening rolled around, George and Annie made one last pursuit to get Mitchell to join the three of them, but alas, he claimed to still be feeling sick and opted to stay in. The trio walked their way down, enjoying the brisk air of autumn on their faces. George glanced up at the moon, mentally counting down how many days he had left before the full moon. It would be exactly two weeks from tonight until he would be sheltering himself in the woods again. He dreaded this time of year as the season brought frosted nights, and he froze his bits off.

When they arrived, they were taken back by the number of people crammed in the place. Annie half wondered if they would even find a seat, but they did manage to scout out an empty booth at the far opposite end of the place. It was a warm and cozy atmosphere – very rustic in design, a fireplace crackling in the open space which sported several couches of different types of interesting fabrics, and a long bar to serve a larger population. It was longer than it was wide, and even though there were a lot of people, it felt more roomy than anticipated.

They each ordered appetizers and their favorite alcoholic beverage of choice – George, a dark ale; Annie, a strawberry cosmo; and Maeve, a non-alcoholic cider. Annie had just gotten out of one of her moods which caused her the inability to be visible, so she was feeling a little extra chipper tonight, even though Mitchell's dissatisfaction was weighing on her mind.

Noticing Maeve's drink of choice, George looked up at her questioningly. "I don't think I've ever known somebody our age who doesn't prefer alcohol." There was a genuine tone of intrigue to his voice.

Maeve smiled and sipped the sweet drink. "It's something I just never picked up. One time I told my brother that since I've gone this long without a drop, I'll save the first time for something special."

"Huh…that's admirable," George attested, shrugging his jacket off as it was growing ever warmer as more people came in. "So, where were you before you were here?" He sipped at his frothy drink.

Maeve across the table at him. "I was actually out visiting with my parents for a while. They just moved to Italy earlier in the year."

"Wow. Why don't we go anywhere, Annie? While we're still able-bodied," he whined, wiping a bit of froth from his mouth.

Sighing, Annie shrugged. "I've never been comfortable enough to even leave our house up until a couple of years ago, let alone flee the country. I don't think it ever crossed anyone's minds."

"Speak for yourself, me and Mitchell used to talk about it all the time," he mumbled as he sipped again. Annie stuck her tongue out at him.

"What's stopping you now?" Maeve questioned.

George thought about it, unable to think of an answer. "You know, I really don't know. I suppose life got too busy. It also doesn't help that every month I…well, you know."

"Well…if there's ever an opportunity, we should try and arrange a trip to my parent's place. They're only going to be there for part of the year, so we could get a group of us to go when they're back here if they would be too intrusive," Maeve proposed, her fingers tapping on the cold beverage between her hands. "And it's relatively secluded for your special time of the month, so you wouldn't have to worry there."

Annie gasped at the thought of travel. She felt both frightened yet exhilarated at the idea of leaving the comfort of her own home. Typically, she didn't go more than a few miles from it.

"Oh, please tell me you're serious. I need to see the world before I die," George pleaded, his hands clasping together as if she were a genie about to grant him a wish.

"Of course I'm serious! I plan to go back eventually. Hopefully, anyway…" she murmured, her eyes catching Annie's gaze toward the bar area. She followed her trance over, though unsure of what caught her attention.

"Hey, George…isn't that that Nina girl? In the white shirt, bartending?" Annie pointed as discreetly as she could, but George wailed at her and instantly turned his back toward the bar.

"Annie! I don't know if I-it is but c-c-c-ould you please not make it so obvious!" He grabbed her hand and flattened it to the table. Her head was thrown back as she cackled loudly.

"That's her! Go say hi!" Annie tried her best to shove George off of the seat, but he wasn't budging.

"Absolutely _not_! How humiliating…oh, no…" burying his hands in his face, he suddenly wished he were at home.

Maeve briefly glanced at the blonde woman working her tail off at the bar, then back to George.

Annie leaned in closer, even though the hum of the crowd was far too loud to be overheard beyond a few feet. "George has a fancy for Nina and has had multiple, um…late night encounters with her, and he refuses to pursue it even further even though they're both totally into each other."

Maeve looked back over to the woman, then George again. "George…"

" _No!_ Don't you start, too! I refuse to be ganged up on. Can we just go home? Please?" He moaned, lifting the collar of his shirt to block out his peripheral vision.

"Absolutely not!" Annie exclaimed, her hands on her hips now. "Maeve, help me do this, will you?"

Before George could protest further and avoid drawing more attention, Annie and Maeve were pushing and pulling him toward Nina. He tried his best to resist, digging his feet into the ground, but once people started turning to see what was happening, he quickly turned around.

"Okay, fine. Just stop embarrassing me or I won't have a chance at all," he said sharply, one hand running through his short hair. Annie helped straighten out his shirt and gave him a wink once she felt he was decent enough. George sighed heavily and gave Annie a look that read, 'you will regret this later'.

"Go get her, tiger," Annie called as George began to make his way over, to which he quickly flashed her a middle finger behind his back.

"I'll go with you. For moral support. And I need another drink," Maeve said as she quickened her pace to keep up with George. Annie had decided to stay behind. She had met Nina a couple of times in one of several rendezvous between her and George, and from what she gathered, she was a generally nice woman. There was a bit of a spiciness to her personality that she felt was good for George, and she had been trying for a while to convince him of it. For whatever reason, he was afraid to make such a commitment, saying that it was safer to remain friends with benefits. Lots of benefits, as it were.

Seeing that Nina was still quite busy serving, George and Maeve found two spare stools together and waited for an opportunity.

"What are you going to say to her, anyway?" Maeve asked, watching as his shoulders tensed.

He spun in his seat, face paler than usual. "I hadn't even thought of that, oh God…what do I say?"

"You could start with 'hello'," came a voice just over the counter. George swung himself so fast, Maeve had to latch onto his jacket to prevent him from falling and making a fool of himself.

"H-hi, Nina. I had no idea you worked here." His voice was an octave higher, a nervous tick that he disliked about himself but couldn't control.

Nina grabbed an extra towel beside her and began to wipe the counter down in front of them. "It's mainly just a weekend job for a little extra pocket money. Are you here with friends?" Something about her tone, and the look she shot Maeve, made George realize that he made a mistake.

"Just friends," Maeve piped in, seeing that George was suddenly mute at the very wrong moment. "Hi, I'm Maeve. I'm here with Annie over there," her head nodded over her shoulder, where Annie waved from afar. Nina smiled back at her.

"I don't think we'd met before. I'm Nina, friendly friends with George," she quipped, which caused George to splutter. He instantly covered his mouth with his hand, then tried to play it off as cool as he could. Maeve tried not to draw unwanted attention to him, but it was hard not to.

"George, are you quite alright? You seem a bit tongue-tied tonight. That's not usually like you," Nina asked with a teasing tone.

As he tried to collect his thoughts, Maeve gently kicked his leg. "I, uh…I just think I haven't had enough to drink."

A small grin flashed on Nina's small face, kneeling below to grab a clean glass. "What do you want?"

"Surprise me," he shrugged, folding his hands onto the counter.

"I know you like surprises," Nina muttered, and George's face flushed redder as he squirmed in his chair.

Maeve had to stifle a laugh, averting her eyes so she could distract her thoughts. "George, I have to thank you for earlier. I never got a chance to say so properly."

Frowning, George looked at her as if she were speaking another language. "I-I'm sorry, what did I do again?" Nina was watching, her eyebrows low as she concentrated on mixing a drink for George.

Scrambling for ideas, Maeve raised her eyebrows. "Don't you remember? For so kindly welcoming me into your home without making me feel like a burden. I can totally see why someone would be attracted to that." While she was mostly saying this to try and create a good impression of George for Nina, she was also genuinely appreciative that he appeared to be so open-minded upon her arrival. "I'll leave you to it. I don't want to leave Annie alone too long." Maeve slid off the stool and squeezed her way through the crowd to find her way back to Annie, who had found some company on her own with no trouble. A handsome, dark-haired young man had filled George's empty seat and was soon try to cozy up beside Annie. Judging by her body language, she wasn't going to be rid of him soon.

"Hey," Maeve called to Annie once she sought an opportunity. Annie's cackling laughter came to a halt as she drew her attention to her, wiping her eyes from laughing so hard. "I think I'm going to head home, I'm a bit tired."

"Oh! I'll come with you," Annie said as she began to slide her way to the other end of the booth.

"Oh, no! No, that's alright. You should stay. I'm just going to bed anyway and it's not a far walk." Maeve flashed a reassuring smile and a wink before fighting her way between the bodies. She didn't know why, but she felt a sudden rush of loneliness hit her just that moment.

It was humid and the sticky air was beginning to fill with the stench of alcohol. It was relief to feel the cool autumnal air hit her skin the moment she stepped over the threshold. She looked around to try and remember which direction they had come from, and began to tread home.

Once Maeve arrived back to the flat, she wiggled the key into the lock and stepped in. The sound of the television was playing in the living room, and Mitchell sat on the couch watching. He didn't turn to see who was walking in, but she suspected he already knew. As soon as she locked the door behind her, she made her way upstairs to prepare for sleep.

Two peeks passed, and to Maeve they dragged. The atmosphere of the house grew more and more tense with Mitchell not wanting to engage in any sort of conversation if she was within thirty feet of him. It only created more stress, and she felt that now he was, unfairly, taking everything out on Annie and George. Mistakenly, she had subconsciously been eavesdropping on a conversation he had been having with them during one early morning. She had been at the top of the stairs, hesitant to make the effort to join in, and had overheard Mitchell telling them that he and his girlfriend had just gotten over a long, rough dissolution.

A small, sharp pain twisted in her stomach. The girl that he had brought to the house that night had been a girlfriend, and not someone he had picked up off the street. And she had, embarrassingly, intruded on them her first night there. Although she knew that they couldn't have broken up all because of that, she was certain that she likely only added fuel to the fire. She felt part of his moodiness could also have been contributing to this as well.

The previous night, she had called her boyfriend, Oliver, who she hadn't spoken much to since she returned from her parent's home. He had been begging her to move in with him since he found out she was back, but that he wasn't ready yet.

" _You're_ not ready? Isn't that a little selfish considering everything?" She had been trying to whisper, but at times it was impossible.

"Well, I wasn't the one who packed their bags and took the next red eye to another fucking country," he had been yelling back to her. Most of their conversations were spent with the phone a foot away from Maeve's ear. Sometimes he spoke so calmly, it was more intimidating than when he raised his voice.

Anger boiling, she had bitten her tongue, knowing all too well the consequences of back-talk. She heard Annie's footsteps coming closer to her door. "I'll talk to you later. I have things to do." With that, she pressed the 'end' button a million times until his call disappeared from her screen.

The following day, they finally had their first, full group gathering. It was a full moon and as the nights grew colder, they needed to clean out their basement to prepare a safe zone for him. Considering how often they neglected the area, over the last year it had been filled with storage and old, unused furniture from the previous tenant.

"I have to admit it, George, I've never seen an actual werewolf in my life. I mean, other than the human form," Maeve said as she began grabbing boxes.

"It's not a spectator sport…it's torture," his voice cracked. She had noticed the past two days he had become exceedingly mopey.

"Oh, you're so much better than you used to be. At least we're able to contain it now," Annie pitched in, trying to arrange the furniture so that George wouldn't be able to demolish them later.

Mitchell was quietly taking the heavier things and moving them upstairs. At one point, Maeve had tripped up the stairs carrying a box far too large for her arms and some of it spilled roughly onto the stairs. A couple of trinkets had broken. Mitchell had seen. Her stomach sank to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I missed a step…" she mumbled, trying to pick up some of the sharp ceramic pieces. She couldn't tell what they originally had been in the first place.

"Don't bother. You'll just cut yourself," he muttered and heaved the box into his arms before carrying it upstairs. She was speechless – although it wasn't necessarily a friendly comment, it was cordial. George was just passing her when Annie came up behind her. Maeve used the sleeves of her sweatshirt to wipe up the rest of the debris.

Annie came up behind her with a bag and helped to collect the shards. "Maeve…last night, I heard a little bit of your phone call. With Oliver. It was an accident; I was about to come in but didn't want to intrude."

"Oh?" Maeve didn't wish to press it, hoping Annie would drop the subject, but she didn't.

"I'm a little bit concerned. Is everything alright? From the little I did hear it didn't seem like it."

Maeve's hand stumbled a little bit and a piece of ceramic nicked her palm. She drew in a sharp breath and her salivary glands stung when she smelled the blood. She considered her a lapsed addict, but at times found herself vulnerable. She bit her tongue and Annie was already tearing off a piece of her own sleeve and dabbing at it.

"Thank you," Maeve mumbled as she turned her head away from the cut. "Anyway, there's nothing to worry much about. We had a little fight before I left for Italy and it sort of went unresolved. Now he's wanting me to move in with him, but is waiting for when he and I are both ready."

Once Annie tied a small knot of fabric around the wound, she looked sideways over at Maeve's face as if expecting something to give her away. She didn't feel convinced, but didn't want to meddle in her affairs. "Only if you mean it. So, are you going to take his offer?"

Shrugging, they headed back to get the last of the boxes. "Only time will tell. I suppose I eventually should, once he's ready. I don't want to intrude on your pack here longer than I already have."

"Oh, please. You're doing anything _but_ intruding," Annie reassured as they ascended the stairway.

"Not everyone feels that way," Maeve muttered over her shoulder.

Later in the evening, they decided on playing board games. George had convinced Mitchell to join them and try to include himself more, but it wasn't met without a little resistance.

"So…" Annie began, obvious that she was a little bit nervous. "Mitchell, have you spoken with Lily at all?"

Without looking up, Mitchell sighed. Maeve gulped, wishing she could direct the conversation elsewhere.

"No. She had the last straw." His eyes flicked up and looked at Maeve, who kept her head down.

However, she was growing tired of his hatred toward her, and felt ready to speak up. Her head shot up and she looked directly into his eyes, her lips down-turned. "So you blame me for your breakup, too? I'm sorry if my invading your space that night upset you, but surely you can't believe that single incident was the straw that broke the camel's back! And if it was, you had a pretty lousy girlfriend."

The entire room felt as if it had suspended in the air. The silence was palpable and nobody dare take a breath. Annie held her mug close to her, eyes dancing between Mitchell and Maeve, unsure of what to expect. George pretended he were counting the fake money in his hand, but in reality, he was waiting for the explosion. His eyes slowly crept up to Annie, who closed hers.

Mitchell's brows were nearly stitched together, his eyes narrowed. "How dare you impede on _our_ house, use _our_ resources, and talk to me like you know me than I know myself!"

"I could say the same to you! You assume I've come here as some bloody homewrecker, when I reluctantly asked my best friend if I could have a place to stay until I've figured my life out. Had I realized I would be hated to much, I would have made other arrangements!" With that, she threw her game token across the board between them and leapt to her feet storming up the stairs. To everyone's surprise, Mitchell chased after her.

"Mitchell, don't! Let it go," George called as he went to go after him, but Mitchell was already halfway there.

Annie stood, her heart pounding. This was what she had feared would happen.

As Maeve stormed off toward her room, Mitchell grabbed her by her elbow. It wasn't in a rough way, but Maeve shrieked as if he had ripped her limb off. He immediately retracted. She turned on her heel, ready to slap him out of defense, then came to her senses of where she was.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He spat, preparing himself to deflect her slightly raised hand.

When she caught her breath from her brief panic, she looked behind Mitchell's shoulder at George's and Annie's worried faces. "I'm sorry…" she whispered, at a loss for words. She then walked quietly to her room, and closed the door on the three pair of shocked eyes behind her.


	3. A Brief History

A Brief History

The weekend couldn't have come soon enough for the house. Changes were being made and it was shifting the dynamic of all its inhabitants. George began to bring Nina around a little more regularly, but was still inherently shy about it. He was very defensive when someone tried to ask him questions about the status of his relationship with her, but there were moments where they would catch a certain laugh he only did around Nina. Nina appeared to find his quirks rather charming. Maeve found all of it to be a little backwards considering, as she had recently learned, that George had scratched her during one of their many encounters and she had since become a werewolf. Yet, in front of them they acted as if it was their first awkward day each time she came around.

There was also the fact that Mitchell and Nina seemed to be in cahoots with one another, as Nina had just begun warming up to Maeve and then suddenly she would catch Nina sneering at her across the room. It created a large shift in the already twisted dynamic. Annie tried her best to be the middle man and include everyone in what went on, but even she gave up after a few weeks. She had thrown a tantrum and spewed off something about everyone being adults and managing their own affairs.

As if things weren't stressful enough, Annie had started spending a lot of her days with a man she had met Maeve's first day living at the house when they went to the pub. His name was Roy, and by happenstance, he was a ghost as well. To Maeve, this meant she was alone more frequently and with George preoccupied with Nina, she had nobody to talk to. Mitchell hardly could stand being on the same floor as her, and Oliver was beginning to increase the frequency of his texts and calls which she mostly chose to ignore as they were nothing of substance. Every couple of nights, he would request vulgar photographs of her and when she denied him, her phone would ring nonstop for a couple of hours. When that didn't work, a slew of expletives was texted her way. However, the previous night he had gotten what he wanted out of her as he had threatened to share some older photographs of her with her parents if she didn't comply. She detested him for it and it was a vile, manipulative move, but she couldn't bear the thought of her family seeing such photos and the disappointment that would come with it. Her parents were oblivious of her strained relationship with Oliver, and they would constantly beg her to promise she would marry him and grant them their first grandchildren.

That night, she cried herself to sleep.

Since she had more time on her hands and feeling that she needed a distraction, she began the role of housekeeping since she hadn't yet found a proper job to bring in the extra income yet. She would have dinner ready by the time everyone was home in the evenings – which was now a couple of extra mouths to feed on days that Annie felt brave enough to bring Roy over – and soon she was finding the routine to be too bland for her. One afternoon she found herself considering her options in terms of a career. She had finished several grueling years of schooling just shortly before she had been brought into the world of vampirism. Since that day, much of her life had been put on hold and it was still a struggle to acknowledge that she was still limited in what she could do. She had taken for granted the ease of being human and not having to worry about which person's jugular she was going to go for in a room full of people. No matter which angle she looked at it, there was always a situation where she pictured herself too inept to do the job. She felt if she didn't do something soon, she would become clinically insane either by having cabin fever or lack of brain stimulation. George, Nina and Mitchell were long-time employees at the local hospital where they were secluded, but Maeve had neither a wish to work with Mitchell nor clean toilets for a living. Annie at times would still pop into the small, older pub as a part time gig for a little extra income or cover someone's shift.

She had decided to drop her assumed role in the house when Mitchell began bringing a new girl to the house – this one clearly an object to fulfill his lust – and would undo all her hard work by inconsiderately tossing the stained dishes in the sink when Maeve was standing just there, or track in mud on a rainy day. This new girl he had met a week before thought it all highly entertaining, and it made Maeve shudder at the thought of a woman actually _enjoying_ his behavior and selfish reason he would bring her around many nights.

It was all becoming too much for Maeve when George and Nina got the same idea. Most unfortunately, her room was sandwiched between each of them, so she considered herself lucky to get a few solid hours of sleep on a good night. Annie at least had the decency to keep things down, though Maeve questioned what really happened behind her closed door. The more she was left alone, the more time she had to think. It was growing more and more lonely here, and though she appreciated the accommodations made for her here, she felt that she was in the way. To add to that, her presence there was causing Mitchell to come down on Annie and George, and the last thing she wanted to do was break up any friendships.

Her only other option would be to go back to Oliver, whom she was moderately trying to avoid, but on the same note she wondered if he would change. She often wondered what had happened to the Oliver that she fell in love with and if he would ever return. Just as she was beginning to delve too deeply into her thoughts one night, the all-too-familiar sound of a bed post hitting the wall started up again. To no surprise of hers, it was Mitchell's room. She groaned, grabbed her coat, and walked her way downstairs and out into the chilly night air. Now that she had been here a while, she was growing more familiar with the area and could comfortably stroll around without worrying about getting herself turned around at night.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she watched as her breath clouded the air before her and dissipated when she walked through it. The moon shone bright and was casting a brilliant blue-tinted light on the pavement. Every few nights she would go for a walk to clear her head, sometimes with Annie if wasn't otherwise occupied. She listened to the neighborhood dogs barking and the echo it stirred in the still air, and the distant rumble of cars on the busier roads surrounding her. She wondered how George's night was going as he had made the leap to take Nina out on their first official date that didn't solely include his bedroom.

As she progressed, so did her thoughts. She hadn't shared it with anybody, including Annie or her parents, but the reason she had left for Italy was much more complicated than an impromptu vacation. She had been suspecting Oliver had begun a relationship with another woman, but for the longest time she never had concrete proof. It started with him becoming increasingly distant, as if he were mentally absent. It was difficult to hold a conversation with him because he either wouldn't be paying attention, or he would snap at her. Not long after that, he would soon pick fights with her over miniscule things. Paired with that were his intense mood swings, to the point where she felt she was walking on eggshells by just acknowledging his presence. It became a burden to be in his company, and she had been clueless for nearly ten months. When she would attempt to ask him what was wrong, he would yell in her face.

The last day she saw him, he had asked her to call him when she would leave work so he could start dinner. At the time, she took gratitude that he seemed to have been more chipper and thought of her in that way. It had been a particularly rough day at work and she had forgotten to call. Instead, when she arrived home, she walked into their bedroom only to find him intertwined with another woman, neither of them clothed. His request had been to call ahead, not to make dinner, but to buy him time to be sure the woman was out the door and everything was neat and tidy before she got home. The suspicion, fear, and ignorance that she had manifested all that time erupted in her. At that moment, she swore that she could kill him – he didn't know that she was immortal and could have just then. But instead, she removed herself from the situation.

In her escape, he had come after her. Not so much to bring her back and try to reconcile, but rather to threaten her that if she ever _did_ come back, he would make it hell on Earth for her. Numerous times he had physically tried to stop her by either blocking the doorway once she finished packing, or grabbing her arm and trying to pull her away from her car and screaming expletives at her. This was the first time physical violence ensued. He blamed her for the deterioration of their relationship, citing her lack of interest in him caused his self-esteem to plummet and claiming that he had to find that intimacy elsewhere. Once she had locked herself in her car, all she could picture was running him over with it. It had been the first time in a long while since she had been turned that she had such violent thoughts. The fire that enraged her only fueled her feelings.

But alas, she was where she was because of all of it. The only thing she had told Annie was that Oliver was intimated by the thought of a domesticated house when he lived alone for so long. His parents had thrown him out of his house when he was before legal age, and she believed part of his anger stemmed from that. Maeve knew that Annie was smart and could see through her at times, but if she did this time, she didn't tell her. It was a lame excuse, but reliving the nightmare that was her long-term relationship only brought nightmares to her. Over the course of the three weeks spent with her parents in Italy, he had made several attempts at contacting her. She ignored the calls, but occasionally would refer to his text messages that were as long as novels. He profusely apologized and swore on everything he loved, which wasn't much, that he would clean up and would change. Part of her wanted to believe it, because she loved the Oliver she used to know. But part of her highly doubted anything he said anymore. For almost a year, he lied and never showed remorse over it during that time. It was only after he was caught that he backpedaled.

Maeve was so entranced in her own head that she hadn't realized a car was slowly following behind her. Her heart skipping a beat, she looked up to try and see where she was, but she had walked beyond her usual border. Frantically, seeing that the car was creeping up on her, she tried to piece together the best strategy for getting back home without the car being able to follow her. There were no alley-ways she could duck into, and she didn't want to risk being pushed further into town. As she was beginning to quicken her pace, the car accelerated with a screech and when she whipped her head around, she saw that it was Oliver. His arm reached out of the car and grabbed her wrist. Her immediate reaction sent her free arm over to force him off, but he yelled at her to listen to him. She stopped, unable to look him in the face. Her body was shaking.

"Get in the car. I'm taking you home," his rocky voice demanded.

"I'm not coming with you, Oliver. Give it up!" With a pull, she tried to regain her arm back but his grip only tightened. She could feel the same pressure in her chest that she felt the night she had walked in on him, and presently she was trying her best to remain calm.

"Please," he pleaded, his grip loosening only slightly. "I promise we can make it work. Just give me another chance."

Nearly speechless, she scoffed. "I can't believe you have the gall to say that as you're bruising my arm! Why would I give you another chance? You had ten months to make things right before royally screwing everything up." Her words were spewing out of her mouth like vomit now, and now Oliver was fully enraged. His foot pressed the accelerator as he still clasped her arm, which in return thrusted her violently and made her fall to the pavement with the smack of her head. For a second all she could see was a flash of white light following spotty vision.

"Hey!" The echo of a voice came from somewhere around her, but her vision was still lagging and she couldn't focus on where it came from. There were two figures running toward her on the sidewalk and as they grew closer, holding the corner of her bleeding forehead, Maeve was finally able to bring into focus the image of George and Nina. George was just approaching Oliver's window before he sped off into the night in his car.

Groaning, Maeve squeezed her eyes shut. Her head was throbbing into her eye socket. She felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, and she tried to open her eyes while blinking a drip of blood out of her eyelashes.

"My God, are you alright?" Nina asked as she looked her over. "George, we need to get her home. Or to the hospital."

"Please, not the hospital," Maeve begged, her eyes widening a little. George kneeled to her level, nostrils flaring. Nina nodded, though it was clear she disagreed.

"Who did this to you? And why?" His voice cracked with horror.

"You guys can't tell anyone. I mean it; not even Annie." Her eyes flickered between George and Nina to confirm she had their discretion. When they reluctantly agreed, she informed them of Oliver but left out the history, and convinced them that had simply fallen off the curb when she was walking alongside his car.

They didn't buy it. Nina's face turned to stone. "Don't lie, Maeve, we saw a lot of it a block away. We just didn't realize it was you."

Maeve sighed with frustration, removing her hand from her skin only to see it shaking and layered with her blood. "Just…don't tell anybody. Please. You know that Annie will want to fix it right away, and I don't want anybody getting involved in this mess. I'll get everything figured out eventually. I just haven't had the time to get it sorted yet."

"If you say so. But I won't promise that nothing won't happen if I ever come across him again," George said sternly as he helped her to her feet. She wobbled, and Nina was soon at her other side in anticipation of her falling.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but is this normal between you two?" George inquired while gripping her upper arm. Her brain was a couple of seconds behind her body, causing her walk to become delayed.

"No, I really don't want to talk about it," she muttered, the threat of tears stinging her eyes. She often prided herself in not letting her emotions get the best of her, but she had been so sterile emotionally that in recent weeks it was all crashing down on her.

George grumbled and met a glance with Nina.

"I'm sorry that I ruined your date. I hope you had fun beforehand, though," Maeve said shyly.

Frowning, Nina looked at George again and then back to Maeve. "You didn't ruin anything. We just happened to be walking back home, actually."

"Oh, good," Maeve breathed, her speech a bit slurred.

"I really think you ought to go to the hospital for an evaluation. You're showing a lot of signs of a pretty moderate concussion," Nina insisted, but Maeve's stubbornness won.

When they finally reached the stoop to the house, Annie had just been saying her nightly farewell to Roy when they approached her. Instantly, Annie's face went from giggly to horror-stricken within a split second of time. She was reaching down to help Maeve up, but feeling a bit overwhelmed, Maeve reassured everyone that she could get into the house.

"What happened? Oh, let me get a towel." Annie rushed into the kitchen and soaked a hand towel in water before returning to her and gently dabbing at the blood beginning to dry on her skin.

As Nina was a nurse, she took a closer look in the light at the injury. "You're not going to want to hear it, but this will need stitching. I know, I know, you don't want to go to the hospital," she added when Maeve opened her mouth to protest. "I can run home really fast and get my stitching kit."

"You don't have to do that, Nina. You don't owe me anything," Maeve insisted but was waved away by Nina as she collected her keys and left.

"My head is killing me," Maeve complained and closed her eyes. Just as she began to waver, now having sat on the couch, she doubled over and vomited onto the floor. Annie shrieked as she had only barely missed the target.

"Whoa, shit," Mitchell's voice came from the stairwell as he stepped into the room. He walked his lady friend out and came back to the scene. Maeve could feel her stomach clenching, wondering what sort of smart comment he would make to her now.

Holding his elbow at the level of his face, George began to mop the contaminated area.

"I can get it, George. I just need a second…" Maeve mumbled and rested her head against the arm of the couch.

"I c-can handle it…I think. Oh, God, Annie, can you help me? I think I'll be next. No offense," he glanced at Maeve before filling in Mitchell with what had happened though keeping to Maeve's wishes and only giving her version of the story.

When the floor was cleaned, Nina walked back in again and sat beside Maeve.

"Jesus," Mitchell whispered at the inhale of the fresh blood slowly oozing from her head. George raised his eyebrow and watched him from the corner of his eye.

"I-I think it would probably be best if you…you know, weren't here right now," George said lowly. Mitchell's mouth had been hanging open, his salivary glands aching and senses heightened. George had to physically push him away into a separate room.

"Tell him to go away, he's making my head explode" Maeve said weakly as Nina began to disinfect and clean the wound.

"He's already gone. Don't worry about him," Annie said while watching the procedure in awe.

"This is going to hurt for a little bit, but bear with me." Nina began to weave the thread into her skin. Maeve winced, trying her best not to crease her forehead and ruin Nina's efforts.

"This seems too severe of an injury just from tripping over a curb," Annie retorted, crossing her arms.

Maeve quickly opted to change the subject. "Thanks for your help, Nina. You didn't have to do this."

Nina's face didn't move in concentration of closing the split skin. "Actually, I think that I do. I have to credit you for painting such a lovely impression of George for me. I don't think he ever would have taken this any further if you hadn't."

Surprised by her friendlier demeanor, Maeve tried to smile but the needle puncturing her aching skin was overwhelming her.

George huffed and puffed briefly. "That's not fair! I would so whether I had help or not."

Even Annie gave him an incredulous look, to which he immediately backed down.

"Really, George? You could hardly ask for my phone number after our third night together," she cackled, and George shifted uncomfortably.

"This conversation is _not_ for all ears," he said. Having simmered down, Mitchell reappeared in the room with everyone.

"All done, you did just fine," Nina chirped as she removed her gloves.

"Thank you. Annie, do you have any medicine I can take for my head?" Maeve's voice croaked, her eyes narrowed from the throbbing ache. Mitchell was staring at her intensely as if trying to figure her out. She tried to disregard it.

As Annie was heading for the bathroom, Nina stopped her. "I brought something a little better. It will help you sleep. Drugstore brands won't take care of the after-effects of a concussion." Nina reached into her small supply bag and popped two larger-sized pills into Maeve's hands.

"You have your own personal drug dealer, George. Who knew?" Mitchell teased, to which George punched him firmly in the arm.

"You best be quiet before I sneak one of these in your next drink," Nina threatened jokingly.

"Please do," Maeve mumbled from the couch just after she swallowed the pills. To her amusement, everybody burst into laughter, including Mitchell. Perhaps it was because she was in the most non-threatening position and nobody took her seriously.

After Maeve had been assisted into her bed and passed out, the rest of the group gathered in the family room around the fireplace that they had lit for the first time that season. Annie made everyone piping hot tea and distributed them appropriately. They sat in silence for a while.

"Why do I get the sneaking feeling that you two know something that I don't?" Annie perused as her squinted eyes silently judged George and Nina, assuming something was off.

As it were, both George and Nina stumbled over each other trying to conjure up the best defense, but the cat was out of the bag. Mitchell raised his eyebrows at them, leaning back in the couch corner.

George groaned loudly. "We may or may not know something, sort of, but we may or may not be under an embargo. You'll have to ask Maeve if you wish to know further." He stuck his nose up in the air, a gesture which he hoped would throw Annie's scent off the trail. For now, she let it go, but she wasn't done investigating.

As they were chatting, they noticed that there was a constant slow beam of light in front of their windows that kept passing. This time of night typically wasn't busy, so it was rather unusual. Mitchell left his chair and parted the curtain just enough so that he could see outside. The same car passed their house a couple of laps before it parked just down the street from them, and its headlights had been switched off. He narrowed his eyes and could barely make out a person in the driver's seat just slightly illuminated by the street lamp.

"Hey, check out this car out here. I've never seen it around before." Mitchell gestured for someone to come over, which led to all three of them. George and Nina gave each other a knowing glance behind Annie's back.

When they got a look at it, Annie shrugged it off. "It's probably just someone looking for a house. I don't find it that odd."

However, George and Nina were noticeably quiet to Mitchell. He looked at them. "Look familiar?"

"Uh-uh, no…no, not at all…familiar," George stammered and nervously scratched his forehead. Nina elbowed him in the ribs which resulted in a whimper.

When Annie was out of earshot, Nina kept her voice low. "That's him."

Mitchell frowned and looked down at her. "Who?"

Nina sighed and looked at him. "You have to promise not to tell Annie, or Maeve that we told you. There's not a lot we do know, but that's her boyfriend's car. I think she said his name is Oliver. We had just been walking back home and we saw him drag Maeve down with his car. She didn't trip like she's been telling everyone," Nina explained in a hushed tone.

Expressionless, Mitchell looked back out the window, but the car had gone. "How the hell does he know she's here? Annie told me they were at odds."

"Are you saying you're concerned?" George teased, a crooked grin on his face.

"Not at all. I just don't want to bring any more trouble here than there has been already," Mitchell muttered in response.

"No need to be such a dick, Mitchell. The girl has a concussion and clearly there's more to it that she's not saying," Nina retorted sharply. Mitchell whipped around and scowled at her.

"There's no proof of it. It could have just been an accident." Dropping the curtain, Mitchell made his way upstairs to prepare for bed.

Nina and George looked at one another. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, George perched himself on the arm of the couch beside them. "I suppose he does have a point..."

"George!" Nina scolded, crossing her arms. "I admit, I can't say I was exactly warm to her when I first met her. But she's in trouble. Don't forget I'm no stranger to domestic violence, either. And no, I don't mean you, so don't look at me that way."

"I just mean it does bring a new danger to the house. We just have to be more alert, is all." He grabbed her hand and walked to the stairs. "Do you need me to walk you home, or are you open to visiting my love shack?"

Wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, he grinned widely and led her up the stairs.


	4. Challenges

Challenges

A house meeting had been called one afternoon after everybody had returned home from work. George put into place some safety measures in the event that Oliver would continue to stalk their house, as he was still frequently doing drive-bys. Everyone else went about their usual routine every day, but Maeve would now leave out the back patio door and go the long way through town whenever she needed to get out. It was an additional stressor that made her feel so ill, she would sometimes shelter herself inside for days at a time. Not to mention, she was self-conscious of the fact that yet again, one of her problems was brought down on everyone else. Annie hadn't been let in on the specific details, but was only informed of a stranger who had been privy to hanging about their house. A nagging guilt ate at Maeve for leaving Annie out, but she wasn't ready for a proactive route and she knew that Annie would want to resolve the issue right away. However, she was still unsure how Oliver found her location, as she hadn't left any clues that she could think of.

Nina was nearly a permanent figure to the house a month later, and any time she did go to her flat, George was sure she didn't go alone out of precaution. Annie had broken things off with Roy, as it turned out he wanted nothing more than a physical relationship. So now they were soon a house of five, and Maeve was a little bit miffed that Mitchell didn't treat Nina as much of an outsider as he did with her. Not that she particularly valued his opinion, but she would feel better about her arrangements had he been more welcoming. Regardless, she, Nina and Annie had begun to spend more quality time together. Nina had apologized to Maeve for her cold first impression, saying that she had thought she had a claim on George and Mitchell had went along with said fake story. She mentioned that he made a comment along the lines of hoping it would mean vacating Maeve from the house. When she heard this, Maeve could feel her anger bubbling but tried to forget about it. She was just glad that she had Annie's company back, and they all grew to enjoy one another.

To get herself out of the house, Maeve had begun applying for jobs around town. She was still very on the fence about it all, as she didn't feel completely confident in herself to stay under control. Often, stressful situations would tend to bring out her worst side, and she was worried she would hurt somebody. Or kill them. She ended up applying to three bookshops, figuring this was a safer zone than anywhere else. At least she knew that she would be mostly isolated and could avoid people if she chose.

Back at the house upon her return, she was nearly run over in a collision with George. They both squealed in unison, and when Maeve caught the look of panic on his face, she finally exhaled. "What's the matter?"

His mouth moved to talk, but there were no words. His body language was tense and she had a hunch that it wasn't related to their near impact. Shaking his head violently, he squeezed past her outside. Pausing, she slowly closed the door behind her as soon as she realized he wasn't coming back in. When she stepped into the family room, Annie was sitting rubbing her forehead, her hair slouched forward.

"What's going on?" Maeve questioned quietly, careful not to startle her.

Sitting back into the couch, her hands clasped her cheeks. "Apparently... Nina is pregnant. He's having a major meltdown."

Eyebrows raised, that wasn't the answer that Maeve had expected. After a minute, she sat beside Annie and folded her hands in her lap. "Wow…I don't know what to say."

"He only recently was growing used to the fact that he turned her, shortly after their first few dates…and now this. I don't think he can handle it," Annie whimpered, staring at the floor.

"How did she handle the transformation?" Maeve asked as she peeled her coat off.

Annie gave her a look. "You know how Nina can be. It took her quite a while to adjust. For the longest time, it was her that was keeping George at arm's length, and then once she was interested again and forgave him, he had been too afraid to pursue her anymore. And now here we are."

Sighing, Maeve scratched the back of her head. "Well…I guess it was bound to happen. They go at it like a couple of rabbits nearly every night."

Annie snorted and burst into a spurt of laughter before controlling herself. She nodded. "Truer words have never been said. I guess the shock of it happening plus the fact that it _can_ happen is what has everyone thrown for a loop."

"Has it ever happened successfully before?" Maeve frowned a little bit in thought.

Annie shook her head. "Not that I've ever heard, no. I've never heard of it at all. So…that's another thing to worry about."

"He wouldn't be so scared that he would leave her, would he?" Maeve turned her head to look at Annie.

Annie's head shot over to meet her gaze and her face twisted. "Oh, no. Not at all. Thankfully, he has enough dignity to see it through. But I don't know Nina enough to say the same about her."

Gulping, Maeve played with a small piece of thread on the cushion below her. "Maybe when he gets back we can try to talk to him. I don't know if we'll be much help, but…he'll probably need some encouragement, surely."

" _If_ he comes back." They snickered, Annie covering her mouth to suppress a harder laugh.

It hadn't been too much longer when George walked back in, this time with Mitchell beside him. Annie and Maeve had been preparing dinner in the kitchen in the meantime. Simultaneously, they turned to get a glimpse of George to try and determine his mood. He looked much more content than when he had left as the pair of them met with the girls in the kitchen.

"Smells good. What is it?" Mitchell commented, to which Annie named off some complicated Italian names. He looked a bit less interested after the fact.

"So, George…I think we ought to have a chat. What do you say?" Annie proposed while she began to prepare bowls for all of them.

Eyebrows raised, George plopped down into a chair, rubbing his tender temples. "I'm fine, Annie. I already had a long chat with Mitchell on the way home."

A bit perturbed, Annie began stirring the noodle a little more furiously than necessary. Maeve watched, anticipating pasta to be flung across the room at any moment. "Oh. Well, then that's good…I guess. Where is Nina, anyway?"

"She had to stay an extra shift today. Some emergency surgery patient." George saw the stares from all three people and he threw his head back, groaning. "And she may still be trying to process the whole idea of a potential alien baby in her belly."

"Hey, be nice. It might not be as bad as you think," suggested Maeve, assisting Annie with the dinner.

He gave her a sideways glance and grimaced. "Apparently, she is already three months along and she knew almost right away, but she didn't tell me. I was wondering why the last couple of weeks she was so reluctant to…well, you don't need the details."

Annie dropped her mixing spoon and spun on her heel. Everybody in the room made a resounding gasp at his remark. "You mean she knew for three months and only now just told you?!" Annie shrieked, hand on her hip. Maeve gulped, and Mitchell stared at George like he had a third eyeball.

Sitting back in his chair as if trying to escape the scrutinizing faces, George put up his hands in defense. "W-w-well, _you_ may think it was a bad idea, but I fully support her choice. She needed time to let it sink in and she was unsure on how to tell me." He released a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Admittedly, I was a bit upset initially. But I think I'm okay with it now."

"Jesus, George." Mitchell piped in, sitting in the chair beside him. "You're every bit as involved as she is. She should have told you right away."

"I completely agree with that sentiment," Annie chirped, loading the plates with food and placing them in front of everyone. As they were doing so, someone had walked in the front door. Shortly after, Nina walked in. She stopped in the threshold as everyone's eyes were now on her.

"I assume you all heard the news," she said quietly, fiddling with the keys in her hands. At first there was silence, but then an eruption of congratulations was had. Relief flooded Nina's face. Annie had so badly wanted to scold her, but she held back and brought over another chair for Nina to the table.

They all ate together and in bits would discuss their day and current events. Nina checked in on Maeve's head to be certain there were no lingering symptoms of her concussion, but all had been well and there was only a small bit of discoloration where her skin was still healing from that night.

While everyone else was distracted in conversation, Nina leaned toward George a little bit. "I'm going in for my first ultrasound tomorrow morning…will you go with me?"

Blinking, George looked down at her and gently kissed her forehead. "Of course I will." His mouth twitched into a smile, still overwhelmed by the fact that he would, hopefully if things went well, be a father. The time was expedited for him as he was only just recently made aware of that fact. Nina smiled and quickly pecked him on the lips. Mitchell winked at George across the table, having overheard a little bit of their conversation.

Later that night, once mostly everyone had gone to bed, Maeve padded her way downstairs to the family room which became an almost nightly routine for her now. Book in hand, she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and curled up into the corner of the couch under the lamp. Part of her new tradition was related to the fact that the men in the house were so occupied with their respective female counterparts in their bedrooms, that it would drive her out of her own room. Rather than confront them every single night and create added drama, she removed herself from the situation. Besides, she felt that she couldn't complain as she rather enjoyed the small bit of solitude she would have in a larger household. Lately, the nightly disturbances had simmered a lot since she had first moved in.

After a while, someone slowly crept down the creaky stairs. Maeve adjusted her reading glasses closer to her eyes and looked up only to find Mitchell at the base of the stairs. He caught a glimpse of her before shuffling into the kitchen. The sound of cereal crumbling against a bowl filled the air. Maeve had learned to mostly ignore his presence whenever he came into a room, as any pursuit of conversation was most always either shot down by Mitchell, or received with tactless rhetoric.

However, she was taken aback when he walked toward the room she was in and, in between gulps of cereal, gestured back with his thumb. "Do you want any?"

She stared at him blankly, nearly looking over her shoulder to see if he truly was speaking to her. She was unsure how to react as too often, she would try to be kind only to get verbal abuse in return. The only thing she could think of to do to avoid it was shake her head and returned her attention back on her book. Mitchell then finished his snack, returned his dishes, and started to make his way back upstairs.

Just before he did so, Maeve looked up again. "Don't pity me, Mitchell."

His face turned from around the corner, face twisted in confusion. "What are you taking about?"

She gazed, trying to determine whether she should have said anything at all. "You don't have to make small talk."

He was frozen where he stood, shaking his head in a puzzled manner. "Why would I pity you?"

The way he said it, so disgusted, made her skin crawl. Her eyes fell back to her book. "Never mind."

Scoffing, Mitchell continued up the stairs.

At the end of the week, Maeve had scored an interview with two of the book shops she had applied to, and was then hired by one of them. She would begin immediately. The news made her feel jubilant – she finally had something to distract her busy mind, and she didn't have to be stuck at home all day anymore. It wasn't as many hours as she would've liked, but it did the trick.

It seemed that Oliver had finally quit coming around the house so often, though Maeve still refused to leave her trail so obvious and continued to use the rear door of the house. She wondered if that had thrown his scent off her trail, but he was still attempting communication through her phone.

George and Nina had mended the slight turn their relationship had taken, and his attitude toward the pregnancy had since improved tremendously. It was easier for him to talk about it without cringing or changing the topic whenever possible. There had been a couple of intense fights between the two that created a very uncomfortable atmosphere within the house when Nina was around, and everybody breathed a sigh of relief when all had been resolved.

During Nina's appointment, it had been in that moment, seeing the small fetus on the monitor, that George felt all was right in the world. The slight movements the baby made wished that he was holding it just then. The technician had made a comment that the baby was large for it only being three months into the pregnancy, to which Nina crafted a story that she had also been a larger baby and was delivered early. Although the tech didn't seem too convinced, they wondered just how soon the baby would arrive if it was growing at such a fast pace.

Once the weekend came around, some of it was spent permanently moving Nina into the house from her apartment. Since she had practically already been living there, there wasn't a lot they had to transfer. As the full moon grew nearer, George's anxiety came with it. Both he and Nina were unsure how her body, and the baby, could handle subsequent morphing even though it had survived thus far. In that regard, they were hoping it would be born sooner than later to minimize the risk.

"There's a fall festival coming into town in a couple of weeks. I think we should all go. It would be good for us to get out before it's too cold to," Annie suggested as they all clamored into the kitchen for lunch after bringing in the last of Nina's luggage.

"Do you remember a few years back when we went and George barfed all over that mini golf course because he drank too much?" Mitchell chuckled as George elbowed him in the ribs.

George put his hands up. "In my defense, I had just gotten off that ridiculous spinny ride two times in a row. Even without the drink I wouldn't have made it."

"Yeah, sure," Mitchell teased as he bit into a slice of pizza.

Gasping, George sat straight up in his seat. It was so sudden it made Nina jump as she had been entranced in her thoughts. His finger pointed at Maeve. "Speaking of. This could be the opportunity to get Maeve pissed for the first time!"

Raising her eyebrows, Maeve looked up at him. "I don't want my first experience to end with me soiling the golf course, George."

Everyone but George laughed, and he narrowed his eyes at her jokingly. "I doubt that you would make it past two shots before getting to that point."

"And I have no doubt you're right. Plus, you're quite a bit bigger than me _and_ have much more experience." She nibbled at her food and Annie looked between them both.

Annie smirked and rubbed her hands together. "We could make it a contest. Maeve and myself versus you two," she looked at Mitchell and George, and then Nina. "And if Nina wants to referee…"

Nina smiled, sighing. "How I wish I could participate with you, but I would be honored to root you girls on from afar."

Mitchell scoffed at her. "You can't take sides or you're disqualified as judge!"

"Calm down, boss. I promise I will stay unbiased and just hope that you and George lose horribly," Nina said with mock cynicism.

"But, Annie…" Maeve began, eyebrow raised. "You can't drink anything. How do you expect to take on these two by myself?"

Nervously giggling, Annie shrugged. "I was hoping you could two one for the team?"

Mitchell busted out laughing and slapped the table, and George tried to protest the idea. "I guarantee it will take no less than an hour. What do you say, George?" Mitchell raised a hand for a high five, but George was still hesitating.

"I don't know Mitchell, maybe I'll sit this one out. I should look after Nina," he digressed as he slouched back into his seat and rested his arm around the back of Nina's chair. She leaned into him.

"What?" Mitchell squeaked, taking his hand back. "You're going to leave me hanging like that? Now it's no fun."

"Excuse me?" Maeve shot back, crossing her arms "I think I deserve to have a chance. I'd like nothing more than to prove you wrong…on many accounts."

He turned to look at her, his face rigid yet not unkind. He took notice at how deep blue her eyes were. "You're on."

Annie couldn't hide her toothy grin even if she tried. Her hands were folded in front of her as if it contained all her excitement. "Nothing like a binge fest to break the ice, eh?"

"Would it be cheating if I started practicing now?" Maeve proposed as she looked away from Mitchell.

"Of course not. Shall we begin now?" Before Maeve could respond, Nina was already walking to the cabinet and grabbed the first bottle she saw and brought it to the table with a small shot glass. She hadn't exactly meant this moment, but it appeared she didn't have much of a choice. The look on everyone's faces seemed to expect her to get on with it.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Mitchell muttered and turned his seat so that he could face her. He sat back and arrogantly crossed his arms. Maeve wanted to kick him.

"I've hardly eaten though." Maeve watched as Nina filled the glass to almost the brim.

"That's even better! It'll hit you much faster and that way you'll get the full effect." Nina nudged the glass closer to Maeve and suddenly, everyone's eyes were on her.

"Lovely." Maeve stared at the clear liquid and gripped it with her fingers.

"What did you go with?" Mitchell asked Nina as she returned to her seat.

"Rum. I probably should have paid attention to what I grabbed."

Mitchell's face scrunched, and Maeve turned her attention to him. "What's that face for? Is this going to kill me?"

"Oh, no, it's a real smooth liquor," he assured and waved her on. George gave Mitchell a look and Mitchell kicked him under the table.

"Oh, God. Say a prayer for me." Maeve lifted the glass and Annie watched with narrowed eyes. It had been ages since she ever laid a finger on alcohol, but from what she could remember, it wasn't the best idea to introduce a beginner to it without mixing. Maeve opened her mouth and tipped the entire contents into her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut and the second it hit her tongue, she was only able to swallow a very small amount before sputtering the rest back out onto the table. There was a collective shriek amongst Annie, George and Nina who had been sitting across from her. Mitchell was cackling so hard, he was doubled over in his chair.

"That was horrible! Jesus!" Maeve quickly abandoned her chair and filled her mouth with water from the tap.

"I would be happy to accept your defeat ahead of time and save you the headache," Mitchell declared as Maeve was walking back to her chair. She brought over a towel and wiped down the mess she'd made on the table.

"As wretched as that was, I'm not handing over the title so easily," she challenged.

"I'll never understand vampires…you can drink pints of blood without flinching, but one drop of alcohol and you're practically writhing on the floor." George shook his head at the thought. Maeve could still feel the lingering burn deep in her throat.

'So, what exactly _are_ the rules to this game, then?" Maeve questioned whoever was listening, sitting back down to finish her lunch.

"Hmmm," Nina began, assuming the role that she was put in gave her the authority to define the rules. "How about each of you have to continually drink all night and whoever can walk the straightest line at the end wins?"

Maeve snickered. She knew that it wasn't going to turn out well, but she still wanted the opportunity to beat Mitchell. He sat there without so much as a blink of the eyes, his confidence was so high.

The rest of the day flowed nicely and they huddled in the family room discussing the upcoming newest family member to their pack. George and Nina hadn't come to terms on what they felt the best name for the baby would be, but they would be finding out the gender of it next month and hoped to get it settled sooner rather than later. There was talk of whether the child would be mortal, but given the rate to which it was growing, George was confident that at least part of the werewolf gene was handed down. Nina on the other hand felt the baby was fully human and was only handed down a few of the traits, which fed the fast growth.

As everyone prepared for slumber that night, Maeve checked her phone one last time before sleeping only to find a dark, grainy picture flashed across her screen in a message from Oliver. She squinted her eyes to try and make it clearer when she opened it. It took her a good couple of minutes to realize that the angle of the picture was high up inside a room, facing downward. When she held the phone further from her eyes, it hit her: it was a still photo of her unconscious body lying on a bed, Oliver hovering above her, nude. Her breath became shallow and panic welled in her chest to the point where she was sure it would burst at any moment. She had no idea that it existed, or that it had happened. As she stared in horror, a message popped up just below the image.

" _You have exactly two weeks from today to make up your mind before I show this to the world. XO Oli_ "

She slammed her phone face first onto the nightstand and rubbed her free hand over her face. The sound that erupted from her was animal-like; the anxiety was so overwhelming she was sure she would faint. She switched her light off, curled up into a ball, and tried to shut the world out.


	5. Autumnus Festives

Autumnus Festives

Though the coming days proved rough for Maeve, she found some consolation in that being home was slightly more comfortable. She didn't know why she let it bother her so much that Mitchell despised her, but perhaps it was because she was morbidly used to being abused by men and she wished to have a stable home without all the baggage. The contact she had had with Oliver had been kept under wraps, as she felt too much was known already. At times, somebody would catch her off-guard and try to persuade her to tell them what was wrong, but she passed it off as being overworked with her new job.

Her new job had been relatively enjoyable – she wasn't forced to interact with many people, so she was less of a risk to the public. Not only that, but she had an immense love of books and to be surrounded by them all day lifted her spirits. During slower times, she would open a new one and find a nook where she couldn't be found and drown herself in a new story. It took her out of reality until she had to force herself back into it. There was another young woman at work whom she would otherwise mingle with. They were very different in both personality and lifestyle – her name was Emily, and she came from a very wealthy family, was severely competitive in everything she did, and she was desperate to find a relationship with a man. It was almost all she talked about – her dating horror stories. It seemed that she went out with anyone. Her outgoing personality was sometimes shocking to Maeve, as she considered herself a bit more introverted and Emily was much more forward and blunt, and could make friends with just about anyone she didn't anger with her sometimes-sharp remarks.

Even being opposites, conversation helped pass the time and Maeve couldn't deny she found a strange interest in Emily's circus of a life. Her parents refused to give her a penny to live by, so she was working two jobs while getting herself through school. The other job, she had informed Maeve, was much better on her finances. Emily held a confidence that Maeve sometimes resented, because she felt that her own was waning very quickly.

As much as she tried to ignore it, the weight of the ultimatum Oliver gave her was lying heavily on her heart. She spent many of the days trying to think of ways around it, but she believed subconsciously that she would soon be returning to him. The thought made her physically ill, but she felt there was no other option for now. She would need more time, and there wasn't much of it. She would have to concoct an excuse with Annie, and for that reason she was glad Annie didn't know of her situation or else it would be nearly impossible to leave. All she had left to do now was act on it, and it became harder to do so with each passing day.

Annie had made an effort to try and rally everybody in Honolulu Heights almost every night for 'family' movie night. It was a hit or miss – Mitchell typically went out frequently with friends since George was now more attending to Nina, and Nina would often fall asleep within the first hour or every movie. Her pregnancy was exhaustive as she had several episodes of morning sickness and radiating back pain. It usually wound up just being Maeve, Annie and George. George had taken a genuine liking to Maeve, and he was glad that he had taken the opportunity to keep an open mind and get to know her despite Mitchell's protests. George swore that Mitchell was beginning to come around, but then there would be times that he wasn't so sure.

The next night they were all together, Maeve made her announcement.

"I'm moving in with Oliver." It was all she could say without giving herself away. George and Nina were eyeing her as if expecting for her to do so, but she didn't add to her statement.

Annie's face fell. "What? But why?" Naturally, her eyes fell on Mitchell just briefly and returned to Maeve. "Sorry…I guess I just got used to you being here."

Trying to keep her breathing regular, Maeve nodded. "Me too. But I suppose it would be weird for him for me to stay here when he has a place for me…" her words trailed off, and everybody took notice at her monotony.

"Well…just know that our door is always open if you need it," George pitched with a knowing glint in his eye. If she hadn't already prepared for this conversation, Maeve felt she could burst into tears and beg for help just then. Instead, she thanked George. Mitchell was strangely calm and quiet.

"When do you go?" Nina asked, idly rubbing her growing belly. It was beginning to protrude in the fabric of the shirt.

"I told him I'd be there the day after the festival. I'm still determined to undermine Mitchell in that regard," she announced and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Eyebrow pricked slightly, Mitchell kept his eyes on the television screen. "Keep dreaming."

Maeve rolled her eyes at his retort and looked to Annie. "I forgot to add, a friend of mine from work is interested in going if you guys don't mind."

"Oh, no matter to me. The more the merrier. In fact, we could go back to teams if that's the case." Annie's eyes widened at her own idea and excitedly clapped her hands. Nina joined in.

"That's not a bad idea, but I doubt George will change his mind," Maeve stated in half-question.

"About that…" George intervened as he gently massaged Nina's shoulders. "Nina and I are actually going to have our first, official, proper date night that night."

"You're going to miss the smack down," Mitchell quipped quietly from the chair in the corner. His legs were propped up on the arm of the chair, peering over his knees intimidatingly.

George looked to Maeve, who was glaring at Mitchell, who was glaring in return. "Well, I have some faith that Maeve might bring out a can of surprise whoop-ass." Nina burst into a fit of laughter that made Annie flinch.

Mouth falling agape, Mitchell's eyebrows furrowed. "You're a traitor!" Maeve smirked.

George's hands lifted into the air as if defending himself from an incoming object. "I'm just saying from experience; the underdog can really surprise you."

"Are you trying to say you're not still the underdog, George?" Nina asked with a bit of snark.

George squeezed her shoulder extra hard at her comment, which quieted her quickly. "I resent that."

Suppressing a grin, Maeve looked at him. "Well, I appreciate your support, George. It looks like Mitchell is on his own."

"I'm rooting for both of you!" Annie chimed in.

Mitchell swatted the air. "I have this in the bag either way."

As Maeve opened her mouth to speak, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She felt her stomach sink as she slowly pulled it out and looked at the screen, shielding it with her arm in the event that it was something she didn't want anybody seeing. As expected, it was Oliver, but the text only read ' _6 more days._ '. The felt a shiver inch down her spine. She'd nearly forgotten where she was until Annie asked if she was alright. Her head snapped back up and she forced a smile and nodded.

"Just Oliver checking in with a game plan for next week," she lied, a little more exasperated than expected. Sometimes she felt she was as easy to read as an open book, because George and Nina, yet again, were watching her from their peripheral vision.

"That's sweet of him. What does he have planned for your reunion?" Annie's grin was blinding.

Now Maeve wished she had lied further and just said it was her parents checking in instead. She stuttered in thinking of what to say. "Um, just dinner and a movie, I think. Nothing too exciting."

Annie gushed at the thought, picturing herself in a scenario where her husband would be waiting for her with open arms, flowers in hand, to welcome her back home.

"Does he know?" Mitchell's question came abruptly and with a grain of criticism.

Maeve hadn't realized he had directed the question to her until she realized nobody else was answering. Their eyes met. "Know what?"

Rolling his eyes, he gestured at her. "What you are."

Pausing, her eyes fell back into her lap where she clasped her hands. "No, he doesn't."

A collective gasp filled the air – it seemed she was good at creating those – and the guilt of it felt heavy on her chest.

"After three years? Why?" Annie went from a state of giddiness to sober in a split second.

Maeve tilted her head back and groaned. "It's complicated. I would think everyone here would understand better than anyone."

Grimacing, Mitchell picked at his nails. "Not in a longterm relationship. What happens if you slip up?"

"That's one reason why I've never told him," she retorted.

"It's alright," Nina's small voice came. "As someone who has only recently been brought into this world, I totally get it We can't crucify her for her decision. It's her prerogative."

Maeve mouthed a 'thank you' in Nina's direction and sighed with a small feeling of relief.

"That's bonkers," Annie continued. "That's like living a lie the whole time. Talk about an elephant in a room."

"Annie…," moaned George. She turned her attention to him. "It took me a long time to get over the fact that you were a dead person who I was having conversation with. Imagine what it would be like learning you're living with a dead person who drinks human blood for a living, for crying out loud."

Simultaneously, many heads looked to Mitchell.

"I already have, you nitwit!" Annie gently whacked George across his head and pointed in Mitchell's direction.

"Okay, okay, think about it this way," George proposed, shielding his head from further harassment. "In _human_ terms, it's only read about in novels. Unless they've somehow made a connection to the supernatural world already."

"Fine…I'll try to understand. I still think he should know if you're in it for the long-haul," Annie suggested and wiggled her eyebrows at Maeve, who wasn't looking at anyone now. She remained quiet at the comment, but it didn't go unnoticed by anybody. When Annie went to question her again, George's leg twitched and caught her ankle. When he had her attention, he shook his head discreetly, and Annie made a gesture across her lips suggesting she wouldn't take it further. Mitchell's eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher what Maeve's body language meant, but was quickly interrupted at Nina's announcement that she was beginning to doze and it was time for her to go to bed.

Once everyone had retired for the night, Maeve quietly went back into the family room with her book again. Somehow, these moments were feeling all too fleeting and she planned to take advantage of the peace while she had a few days left to do it. Though she had to be up early in the morning for work, she found herself to be going to bed later and later to preserve the limited free time that remained.

The anxiety which Maeve felt with each coming day was nearly debilitating. She found herself unusually distracted at work, to the point where her boss and other workers had to bring her back to reality several times a day. Either she would be caught daydreaming (which, really, was more like her picturing potential scenarios that would happen to her once she returned to Oliver), or she would constantly ask people to repeat themselves when speaking to her.

At their lunch break, she met with Emily in the break room. "So, I told everyone you were wanting to join our little group this weekend, and everyone is totally fine with it."

Emily's thin face crinkled with a large smile. "I'm glad! Are there any hot guys in your little group?"

Taken aback, per usual, by her frankness, Maeve stuttered to respond. "Uh, um…," she tried to clear her head, biting into her sandwich. "I suppose attraction is more…subjective, but there is a single guy. I have to warn you though, he's a bit temperamental _and_ he only sort of recently just got out of a relationship. Being honest, I don't think it was anything long-term, but…I may or may not have not helped it, and it's one reason he hates me."

Emily's eyes were slightly wide. "Oh? I have a lot of questions…the first being, what could _you_ have done to hinder it?"

"It's a long story, but it was my first night in the house and I was exhausted. They decided they would get it on, and his bedroom is right next to mine, and they were so obnoxious. I was in such a bad mood by that point that I sort of burst into his room and caused a scene…" Maeve trailed off and sipped her coffee.

It seemed as if Emily was stunned. A strange squeak came from her mouth. "Wow, I think you may be less innocent than I anticipated!"

Chuckling, Maeve shook her head. "I can sometimes have a temper myself. It's the result of a lot of things, I think."

"Things we will discuss later," Emily said as she propped her feet up onto a nearby chair. "But I have more questions about this guy. What's his name? What's he like other than what you've told me? And also, do you think I have a chance?"

So, they spent the remainder of their lunch break discussing Mitchell, much to Maeve's dismay. But as they went on, she began to realize that the pairing might not be such a bad idea after all. There were things about Emily that Maeve thought he may find rather dull and possibly irritating. There was also the issue of Mitchell being a vampire, and if he were anything like herself, it would grow increasingly difficult to prevent any temptation. Other than those factors, she felt they might be more well-suited than she initially thought. Emily seemed joyful at the thought of meeting him, but Maeve mentally admitted that she was quite nervous to play matchmaker.

After a very busy week, the weekend had arrived in no time. There was a jubilance in the air amongst the group, even for Maeve who couldn't get her mind off what was to come after the weekend was gone. It had been a long work week for everybody it seemed, and they were glad to be rid of it and look forward to the autumn festival later that night.

George and Nina had packed up and were on their way downtown, where George had planned an all-day spa for Nina as her pregnancy pains increased each week. Annie took advantage of less figures in the house to properly clean around – their home had looked more like a barn as they had neglected it for so long. Besides this, she had grown used to having Maeve live with them, and the thought of one less friend in the house caused her more grief than she expected it to.

While she was busy with this, Maeve walked her way downstairs and found Mitchell in the family room reading the newspaper. She sat in the armchair near him and cleared her throat. "Mitchell."

"Are you here to concede?" He didn't take his eyes from the paper.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she mentally envisioned herself folding the newspaper in his hands and swatting him over the head with it. "No. I'm actually here to talk to you about my friend that's coming with us later. Actually, more of a head's up…"

His eyes made a very small movement in acknowledgement.

"She more or less is expecting this to be sort of a blind date with you," she said bluntly, taking a note from Emily's book since Mitchell appeared to feel she wasn't worth his time.

Finally, he looked over his shoulder at her. "What?"

Drawing in a slow breath, she was uncertain how to read his face. "She's a desperate, single woman whose life's mission seems to be to find a lifelong partner to listen to her rants and raves about the world."

His mouth formed a circle to continue, but he just shook his head at her, confused.

"She had asked me if there were any eligible men coming with tonight, and I may have thrown your name out there…" she soon found her eyes to the floor, as she often did when he was boring into her the way her was now.

For what felt like ages, there was only silence.

"Why?" He asked and turned his attention back to his paper.

Shrugging, she sat back in her seat. "I don't know. I think you might like her."

"And how did you come to that conclusion? You hardly know me."

"I know that you're stubborn, arrogant and are obsessed with women. Or the thought of them, anyway." She had expected him to turn around and spit at her, but for once he didn't. For just a brief second, she thought he had smirked, but she couldn't tell from her angle.

"I'll give her a shot. But if she drives me crazy, you owe me."

"Deal. But I can't promise I'll keep my promise." With that, she went to find Annie to fill her in with the plan. Mitchell watched her go before folding the paper and closing his eyes.

When they arrived at the festival after picking up Emily, who was talking Mitchell's ear off in the car, they gathered in a less-crowded grassy area. Emily pulled up the collar of her coat over her mouth and stuffed her hands into her coat. It was freezing cold and there was a wind that bit through layers of clothing.

"Right, how do we go about this then?" Maeve asked Mitchell as soon as Emily had stopped talking.

"I have an idea," Annie proposed, crossing her arms and feeling a bit restless in the heap of people pouring into the festival grounds. "Rather than doing it all in one sitting and probably risk somebody poisoning themselves-"Mitchell snickered and Maeve shot him a side-eyed glare. Emily seemed to enjoy the conflict. "-I thought it would be better _and_ more fun to spread it out over some games. And you'll have to be together because I have to supervise."

"That sounds fair," Maeve said, and Mitchell nodded his head in agreement.

"Okay, off we go! Where to first?" Annie's eyes flicked between everyone's faces.

"First off, beer tent. Then bumper cars." Mitchell led the way forward as they weaved in and out of the groups of people who were crisscrossing in every direction.

They stood in a mildly long line for their first round. Emily leaned toward Maeve, a slight smirk on her face. "Do you really think you'll win?"

"Not a chance," Maeve replied in a low voice and out of earshot of Mitchell. "But I'm not going down without a fight. Who knows, maybe a miracle will happen."

"Ask for it to be diluted; he'll never know. That way you'll be in the game longer," Emily proposed quietly.

Maeve shook her head. "He's already decided on shots. I'm probably going to die by the end of the night from alcohol poisoning. I don't know why I even agreed to this."

"Sneaky…" Emily purred, glimpsing at Mitchell's profile out of the corner of her eye. "Also, I'm quite surprised a public event actually serves you shots. I've been going to the wrong establishments this whole time."

They were up next. Mitchell asked Maeve what she wanted, but considering she was less than knowledgeable, she let him do the honors for her. She figured that either way wasn't going to be easy. He got two shots of liquor for each of them to start. She stared at him in horror.

"Are you truly trying to kill me?" She took the two small plastic cups and they waited for Emily to go next, stepping away from the line.

"Bottom's up," he said as he ignored her, tilting his head back and downing each one as if it were water.

Groaning, Maeve tried to psych herself up, but the memory of her recent experience made her want to gag already.

"You've got this! Don't disappoint me!" Annie cheered and shook Maeve. Emily rejoined them.

"Ugh, this is going to suck." With a deep breath, Maeve plugged her nose and quickly downed the first one, though not without struggle. The burn and bitterness it left in her mouth was enough to choke her. Mitchell was having the best time watching. Before she could think about it, she finished the last one and covered her mouth, her eyes watering.

"You did it!" Annie jumped up and down and Emily patted her on the back.

"Since you already have a cheerleader, I have to root for Mitchell. It's only fair!" Emily stepped over to stand beside him, and Maeve scowled at her in jest.

Next, they moved on to the bumper cars. Mitchell and Emily took one, and Annie and Maeve another.

"Is this even legal?" Maeve questioned as they belted themselves in.

"I'm sure they expect it. Besides, you're _supposed_ to crash. Make sure you get them really good," Annie ordered.

They waited for the green light to go. "Do you think Mitchell will like her?" Maeve inquired, watching the other two from across the floor.

Annie pondered this for a moment. "It's hard to say. I feel like it could go either way. You know her better, so what do you think?"

Shrugging, Maeve could start to feel a slight tingling in her head. "I feel the same way. He's hard to read, plus you know _him_ better."

"Hard to read? Really?" Annie squeaked.

"Well, to me. He doesn't like me, remember?"

"I think he's just beginning to come around."

"Only because he knows that I'm gone tomorrow. It's fine, Annie. Don't make that face. I don't have hurt feelings. Maybe when I first arrived, but…I suppose I have bigger fish to fry now."

As Annie was about to reply, the green light flashed and all of the cars sped this way and that. Maeve gassed it, but was quickly met with a speeding car to her left which thrust them in the opposite direction. They were laughing so hard, Maeve's eyes filled with tears and she collided with another stranger's car. Annie threw herself back in her seat, cackling tremendously.

"Help me find them!" Maeve shouted over the noise, looking over her shoulders. Annie scanned the room ahead of them, but the dim red light made it difficult to decipher who was who.

Just as Maeve was about to turn them around, they were rear-ended violently and their car spun diagonally. Both of them screamed from the impact, having not expected it. Sure enough when they turned around, Mitchell was grinning from ear to ear with a mischievous look about his face. Emily was clinging both to his arm and the other side of the car as if expecting to be thrown off at any time.

"Give me that thing!" Annie bellowed, reaching over and taking charge of the wheel while Maeve worked the accelerator. Frantically, Annie regained control of their car and chased Mitchell and Emily across the floor, zigzagging away from all the incoming people.

"Dear God, Annie, why didn't you drive in the first place?" Maeve squawked over the engine.

Finally, Mitchell and Emily had been cornered by someone else, and Annie ran head-first into their cart. All of them were sent backwards by the collision in a fit of laughter.

After a few more minutes, the normal lights returned and they stumbled out of their cars to regroup. Mitchell had strands of curly hair disheveled, to which Emily took advantage and fixed it for him. Maeve could feel the tingling sensation throughout more of her body now. It was time for their second round, and Mitchell wanted to up the ante to three shots this time.

"Three? It's going to be game over for me, I can guarantee it. I feel good right now," Maeve muttered, watching as Emily became more cozy with Mitchell. He wasn't repelling her, so it was assumed that he at least wasn't disinterested. Emily got herself another drink as well. When they got their drinks, they made quick work of them. The first one seared Maeve's throat, but the next two went down a little easier.

Next, Emily suggested they go on a ride that involved spinning. The thought of it made Maeve's stomach turn. She tried to protest, but Mitchell and Emily managed to convince her, and Annie was reluctant to let them win. Here and there, Annie would whisper a word of support into Maeve's ear. The more intoxicated she became, the more competitive she was.

At the end of the long ride, everybody tried to find one another, and everyone was found but Maeve. When a couple of minutes passed, they found her slumped against a tree with her head in her arms. Emily stumbled her way to her and knelt down.

"Are you alright?" Emily slurred, cocking her head to try and see her shielded face. Maeve stuck her arm out lazily and flashed them a thumb up.

Mitchell shook his head. "Did you get sick?"

She only shook her head, afraid that if she spoke, she would indeed vomit. "I think I'm going to die."

Rolling his eyes, Mitchell stepped over to her. "Come on. You're still in this if you really want to be. You're doing better than I thought you would."

"I can't get up," Maeve uttered, lifting her head, which felt like she was acting in slow motion. It took her a good two seconds for her eyes to focus on everyone staring at her. Mitchell had barely been slurring his own words, and Emily was well on her way to losing her balance.

Mitchell held his hand out toward her, and she stared at it blankly. "What's that for?"

Eyebrows raised, he suppressed a laugh. "To get you back on your feet." Annie snickered, enjoying the entertainment.

"I can do it," she muttered and as she went to step up, with Emily holding her arm out ready to catch her, she stumbled over the lumpy ground and straight into Mitchell. She quietly cursed at herself. He helped steady her before helping Emily back up.

"Stubborn," he muttered as they made way for the third round. "Would you rather change it up to mixed drinks instead?"

The more they moved, the worse she felt. Her stomach was burning as she hadn't eaten recently. "Sure…"

Annie looked at her with a bit of concern written on her face. "Maeve…don't do this if it's going to make you sick."

Maeve waved her off, trying to continue walking in a straight line, but occasionally being pulled back by Annie when she was close to colliding with people. Emily was stumbling beside Mitchell, her arm linked with his. It seemed that they had begun to get on well; they certainly shared many laughs together. She could be overheard discussing plans for later that night to which his body language responded in her favor, and it made Maeve's stomach all the queasier. Maybe _that_ was why she felt she was a good match for him. She did take notice, however, that Mitchell appeared to be finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. Though it was very far away, she could begin to smell victory if only she could hang on a while longer.

When they reached the booth, they opted for a hard cider. Emily seemed to be wanting to follow suit as she requested a spiked hot chocolate – she had been complaining more frequently at how bitter cold it was. Herself, Mitchell, and Annie would sometimes groan at the complaint as they weren't bothered by it since their body temperature wasn't far off from the air's.

"I'm starting to think we'll need to worry about _her_ pretty soon," Annie murmured in Maeve's ear. She spluttered in her drink when she went to take a gulp, wiping her face with her sleeve. Annie threw her head back in a loud cackle.

"No worries. I think Mitchell will be keeping good care of her later," Maeve uttered quietly. Annie rolled her eyes.

"As it's your last night with us, you're more than welcome to share my room if you find it necessary." Annie looked up at the two figures before them, wandering aimlessly. "How are you feeling, Mitchell? Ready to give up yet?"

He turned around from his conversation with Emily and spoke over his shoulder. "I barely feel anything. I can't say the same for the lightweight back there." Emily snorted.

Maeve took a large gulp of her drink. "I'm doing just fine, thank you."

Annie leaned in closer, whispering. "I think he's not doing as well as he says – watch the way he walks. He's totally trying to play it off but he's using Emily's support to walk." Annie had been so preoccupied watching Mitchell's wobbling that she hadn't noticed Maeve was no longer at her side. She stopped abruptly and looked around, until she found Maeve perched under a tree, heaving. "Oh, no…Mitchell…" when he turned around, she pointed in Maeve's direction.

"You did it!" Emily exclaimed, tugging on Mitchell's arm. He half smiled and followed Annie, Emily attached to him like velcro.

Annie knelt beside Maeve and gently rubbed her back as the contents of her stomach emptied onto the grassy area. Emily stopped at one of the nearest vendors and brought over a cup of water for her.

"Thank you," she muttered and rinsed her mouth. "I seriously feel like death."

They let some time pass until Maeve was done vomiting, having moved her to a more secluded area to do so. Amid them all chatting, Maeve had fallen asleep on the bench they were sitting on.

Annie stopped mid-sentence when Maeve's head slowly fell onto her shoulder. "Poor thing. I can't imagine how she'll feel in the morning. Will you help me get her to the car? And please don't drop her."

Mitchell looked up at her, at first incredulous, and when she shot him a look, he did as requested. As they stood, Mitchell leaned down and lifted Maeve's limp body effortlessly and they began walking back to the entrance. Emily was cooing about how sweet he was, which visibly irked him.

When they arrived back home, the gentle rock of the car stopping woke Maeve. Adjusting her eyes, she looked around to digest what was happening. Annie helped her out of the car, while Mitchell and Emily disappeared into the house and up the stairs. Annie grumbled something about him being useless, and assisted Maeve onto the couch. "I'll get you some things from upstairs. I've a feeling you wouldn't get much rest up there tonight…did you want to sleep in my room?"

Maeve rested her arm over her eyes to shield the light and shook her head. Her body felt like a heavy weight and her ears were buzzing. "This is okay. Thanks, Annie."

Nodding, Annie swooped around the house and collected a change of clothes, water, medicine for the anticipated rough morning ahead, and a spare pillow and blanket, and helped her get set up for the night.

"Annie…" Maeve croaked, her other arm reaching out at the air where Annie was just beginning to walk away. She switched off the light before turning around. "Thanks for everything." She wished that she could go into much more detail just then, but she hadn't the energy to keep her eyes open let alone dive into the details of her complicated life.

"Of course. You're always welcome here if you ever need it," Annie whispered with a friendly smile and went upstairs.

Wrapping herself in the blanket, Maeve flipped onto her side and brought her knees to her chest. As exhausted as she was in body and mind, nothing could have prevented her from crying herself to sleep another night.


End file.
